


Believer

by lungsieku



Category: Shadow of the Colossus
Genre: Canonical Character Death, F/M, Introspection, Mid-Canon, Sad, Spoilers, vague violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-16
Updated: 2015-06-16
Packaged: 2018-04-04 17:15:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4146006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lungsieku/pseuds/lungsieku
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He believed at the start of his quest that he would save her, and nothing has changed. He will not let anything change him. If he believes it enough, he thinks, he can do anything. He can, and he will.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Believer

When he raises his sword to the light, it strikes him blind. For a few blissful moments on the temple steps, all he can see is white. White, like the pale of her dress, and her skin against the stone of the altar. He has tried to be quick, tried to slay the beasts in as little time as possible, but still, days have passed since he crossed the bridge with her in his arms. And it took him days to reach the temple, after he fled from their village with nothing but the hallowed sword, his horse, and her. He remembers riding fast in the night, with branches tangling in his hair and scratching his cheeks. He remembers holding her, wrapped in the burial shroud, and never once unclasping his arm from its place about her until he crossed that impossibly high bridge and heard the voices in the stone promise that they could save her.

And now, with his sword held high before the widespread earth, he watches as the light gathers past the mountains and trees, watches until he has memorized the direction, then allows himself a breath. Agro grunts and shuffles at the base of the steps, his mane dancing in the breeze. As the wind blows, Wander turns one last time to see her, to take in the details of her cold and lifeless face and let the resolution burn hot in his chest again. Every time he looks, the rapid beating of his heart can overshadow the ache behind his eyes that has grown steadily stronger as each colossus fell. He clutches the sword tighter, and reaches for the reins. The wind sings at his back as he rides swiftly away.

The miles between him and the next enemy are filled with patches of razor thin grass and thorns that scrape his arms and cheeks, and he pretends it is the light that makes his blood look dark. He pretends it is Agro’s pace on the terrain that makes his skull feel like it is splitting. He pretends that he knows exactly what will happen when the last colossus crumbles before him. But when he tells himself that he will live to see her smile again, he does not pretend. He believes it. He believes it just as he did the day he had to watch her die, in their quaint village where the priests in their ancient masks marked her from birth. The night he stole that sword, he’d been ready to slay any guard that dared to stand in his path, any of the holy men if they’d happened upon him. He was ready to do it again and again. He’d known for a long time that he would kill or die, or worse, for her. He knows it still, traveling across the storied lands to face another titanic beast that could easily crush him. But he knows that he will not let it. He can’t. He believed at the start of his quest that he would save her, and nothing has changed. He will not let anything change him. If he believes it enough, he thinks, he can do anything. He can, and he will. He will.

 

\--

 

His hands do not shake when he plunges his sword into the hide of the eighth colossus, nor the ninth, or the tenth. When he holds himself so very high atop the head of the final creature, he does not falter. His grip does not fail. And when he feels the piercing pain of shadow strike his chest, he repeats her name. He repeats her name as he falls from the monster’s back. He says it all the way down.

But when he wakes upon the stone, he cannot say anything. He can barely see the men in their masks, but he sees her. And he feels. He feels the fury of sixteen souls burning within him as the arrow strikes his knee. When one of their swords finds his chest, he feels the panic shoot through every vein as it must have for each colossus then sharing his broken frame. But when he stands, when he wrenches the sword free with pain screaming across every inch of him, one soul drags the others back and away from his sight so he can reach out. He reaches towards the altar to call to the still silent figure upon it. But he does not remember her name.

When they tell him he was only being used, he knows they are right. He knew it from the beginning, but he didn’t care. All he cared about then, and still cares for now, is her. All he believes, when he falls again, is that she will open her eyes. She must. He wants to tell them that none of this is a surprise, he has been ready to die from the moment he watched them kill her in the name of fate. Death is nothing to him, nothing. The priests are nothing, the broken idols too. All that matters, all that has ever mattered is her. As the darkness floods in from the corners of his eyes, he still believes Dormin has kept their promise. He still believes that he can save her. He believes it, until the whole world goes silent and black.

**Author's Note:**

> This fandom is basically just people crying over why the game had the end how it did, so I wanted to contribute to that.


End file.
